Giggling feet

Below the door, three in a row, three sets of feet.  I can tell whos who by the nail polish on toes.  This trio clump of girls, in three dressing rooms right in a row.  I sit across from them waiting for the fashion show ....and listen.  These three, numbers 3, 4 and 5, have always been a trio.  Our two oldest would tell stories of getting them all buckled into their car seats at the same time.  It was Stephen and Phoebe's job to secure them in the car for me.  While they each buckled one, the third, unmanned would release themselves and RUN ....and while they were chased the other two would release themselves and RUN.  I would finish up in the house while they took care of getting "little girls" all secured.  I often wondered why it took them so long, and over the years I learned as the story of frustration was shared with laughter.  The girls shared their version too, howling as they retold the antics,   plans and strategies they implemented, spoiling the efforts of their older siblings.  And now, here they are, giggling and planning.  I sit and listen and thank God they are who they are ...still laughing and living.  One parades out and the other doors open ....approval.  One parades out in a shirt exposing back and belly, its flimsy, transparent, and my face drops, brow furrows.  They all look at me with serious faces ....and then burst into laughter ..."gotcha, Mom."  All three of them planning to push my buttons ...and they succeed.
Years ago, when they were all little, their aunt called them the "giggle girls."  And they were.  I'm grateful for their bond, their closeness.  They're missing their leader, but she taught them to stay close.  I've learned that over these months, what she told them, how she guided them, expected of them ...in their own quiet moments, she showed them a path to take, one that would be good.  And they listened. 
My giggle girls have giggling feet, and as I watch them dance under the door, I'm so so grateful for the moment.  I know who's missing ...but on them are her fingerprints ...and footprints ....never to be smudged. 

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.